POP!
by theLilyLady
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo's at the brink of insanity. However, that doesn't stop him from thinking about a certain female Shinigami. No drama whatsoever. Random ONE SHOT. Pairing...guesssss


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters associated with it. Bloody sodding hell. Life is unfair

This is my first EVER bleach fanfic- It sorta came to me outa nowhere. And here I am, so hopelessly behind on my assignments. But what can I do? The bloody muse just can't seem to SHUT UP. So here goes…

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The morning rays streamed in through a slit in the curtains, setting the tiny room aglow with golden light. A lukewarm mug of green tea sat, untouched on the desk, next to a plate of crumbs; remnants of last night's snack. The soothing fragrance of tea leaves still lingered in his room, enhancing the relaxed and pleasant atmosphere.

Except that Ichigo Kurosaki was not feeling at all relaxed or even particularly pleasant…

"Pop!"

And there it was, the reason for the rigid tension in his shoulders. The bane of his poor, sad existence. The wretched rain cloud in his sunny day. The bloody, stupid sound…

"Pop!"

He was going to kill her. Any moment now, he was going to loose control on what remained of his already dissipating patience. He would snap. And the consequences would not be in any way his fault.

"Pop!"

Why did she find such pleasure in torturing him? Didn't she know how disturbed and uncomfortable he was? Wasn't it enough that she commandeered most of his bed (why so small a person should need so much space was beyond him), taken over all of HIS pillows and had most of the blanket on her side?

"POP!"

That was it. He knew that he was going to go Hollow any moment now and shove Tensa Zangetsu down her skinny little throat. It was the only way to achieve any peace and quiet really. True, he could always tell her to stop…but his harmless request might be misconstrued, then readily escalate into a full and frontal confrontation, which he really wasn't in the mood to deal with.

"POP!"

It was so warm and cosy here on the bed. He could feel her heat from where he lay, though she lounged against the pillows (HIS PILLOWS, DAMMIT) some distance away. He didn't know when she had to leave. He never asked. And in all the times she appeared outside his window, she had never once given him any indication how long she intended to stay. She would just slip back into his life, and out again just as abruptly. Not that he minded her sudden visits. In fact he lived for them. He was forever waiting, anticipating the sound of his window sliding open, and the rush of a cool breeze, signalling her arrival. Then he would abandon whatever he was doing, just because her mere presence demanded his full attention.

"POP!"

Why did he put up with her anyway? All she did was eat his food, ransack his manga shelves (Yes, they did have some resemblance of order before SHE came along), and laze on his bed, drawing (what she called) bunnies and bears in his exercise books. It was either that or engage him in intense yelling matches on arguments as trivial as how many colours there were in the rainbow. And then there was also the stupid…

"POP!"

But looking back, he also remembered cool summer nights spent on the roof, watching the stars together in a companionable silence. Humorous debates about her brother's hairstyle (in which they both agreed to disagree). Little midnight conquests down to the kitchen, in which they would try to be as quiet as possible, but always end up making one hell of a racket. He recalled most fondly the time when she had arrived right in the middle of his exam period. How she had taken such delight in testing him in his literature, smacking him painfully on the head when he was wrong and when he was right, feeding him a pokey stick (right after she had eaten the strawberry part).

"POP!"

Ok, obviously he enjoyed her company. Otherwise he would have booted her out ages ago. Scratch that. He would have plonked her bony ass on the hard pavement of the street the moment she first barged into his life. Fortunately for her, he had been intrigued with her from the beginning. He had been fascinated, interested and even…even…infatuated?

"POP!"

No…that made him sound like some lovesick fan boy. And that faintly made him want to throw up. That and kill himself. No. What he had felt for her, well, still feels really, is different. It's…more. And complicated.

"POP!"

He needs her. That's all there is to it. But he also wants her to need him in return. Does she? Is that why she keeps coming back to him? Because she wants to be with him? It hurts his head, thinking about this. He broods about it during those empty days when visions of lilac eyes and the flicker of black robes plague him in every waking moment. Then she would appear and the black mood would miraculously lift, her flesh made tangible to his touch, warm velvet under his fingers, and her scathing remarks music to his ears.

"POP!"

But no time to think about those confusing feelings now…His head feels like it's going to explode.

"POP!"

What the hell ever possessed him to give her bubble gum?

END.

Told ya it was random


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